


The Clothes Stay On

by MajiLovePrincess



Series: Smutember 2020 [23]
Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Anal Sex, Backstage, Clothed Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Mirror Sex, PWP, Quickies, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26615113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajiLovePrincess/pseuds/MajiLovePrincess
Summary: Masato and Tokiya don’t have long before the concert, but that isn’t stopping them from getting what they crave.
Relationships: Hijirikawa Masato/Ichinose Tokiya
Series: Smutember 2020 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905265
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	The Clothes Stay On

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a rush, but I kind of like it. I hope you do, too!

The hard marble counter bit into Tokiya’s hip, but he could hardly care about that when Masato was pressed to his back, sucking a dark bruise onto his neck.

“Ichinose,” he breathed, running his tongue along the afflicted skin. “We do not have much time.”

“I know,” Tokiya murmured, tilting his head back for a kiss. “Better make it fast.” His breath escaped in a shudder as Masato’s cool hands untucked his shirt and slipped between his flushed skin and the cotton.

Masato made a pleased hum as Tokiya arched into his indelicate touch. 

“Hijirikawa-san!” Tokiya’s whisper was harsh and desperate. 

Masato made quick work of the stupid buttons and zippers on Tokiya’s stage costume, pushing them and his boxers down just enough to bare Tokiya’s toned ass.

Their eyes met in the washroom mirror. Tokiya smirked. “Have I rendered you speechless?”

Masato scoffed and tweaked his ear. “Flirting later.” The blush on his regal cheeks darkened. “Do you have the supplies?”

Tokiya snickered, pulling a condom and a packet of lube from his breast pocket. “I always come prepared.”

Masato scowled at him in the mirror, but slipped his own pants and underwear down before accepting the condom.

They took a precious minute to prep, but then Masato was pressing into him, smooth and deep and, “Oh, fuck,” Tokiya gasped, flattening his palms to the counter, torn between the cold under his hands and the burning heat of Masato inside of him.

Masato, ever the gentleman, stilled when he was fully inside. Tokiya, wanting to get relief in the short time they had, said, “Move. Fast.”

So he obliged. Masato rocked back, stealing the warmth, and then rammed right back in. He was always quiet, betrayed only by his harsh breaths.

Tokiya groaned, “Oh! Like that.”

Skin on skin. In and out. Piece by piece, Masato offered no reprieve as he moved hard and fast.

Outside, they could hear the other performances. Quartet Night was in the middle of a set. They would be on soon. Very soon.

“Masa,” Tokiya breathed, looking into the mirror to watch his lover. He needed to speed this up, and luckily he knew all of the man’s weaknesses. “Oh, Masa, you’re so gorgeous. So good. So big.”

Masato’s blush traveled to his ears. His hips stuttered, but his eyes were wide with lust. “What are you saying?”

Tokiya reached back and dragged Masato into a kiss. “Only you can make a mess of me like this. Look at us,” he said, forcing Masato to watch their bodies move in the mirror. “Fucking in a bathroom like horny teenagers.” Tokiya moaned as Masato wrapped a scolding hand around his erection. “I’ve got to dance in few minutes, but I’m letting you wreck me right now. What does that say?”

“Well” Masato whispered, his breath harsh on Tokiya’s ear. “Someone was teasing all afternoon. Clearly you needed to be punished.”

“Clearly,” Tokiya agreed, shuddering as Masato’s thumb brushed across head of his length. 

“Are you close?” Masato asked, sucking on Tokiya’s earlobe.

Tokiya nodded, choking on whatever he was about to say when Masato hit his prostate. “Oh, Jesus,” Tokiya hissed, his knees buckling.

Masato held him, his hips growing impossibly faster as they both felt that tension coiling, pooling, building. 

So close. Another thrust. Another moan. Skin on skin. So close. Masato’s hand, firm and practiced as it moved up and down. Tokiya’s body, hot and tight.

So close.

And then, Tokiya bit his lip to stifle the cry as he came, trembling, with Masato’s palm around him.

Masato followed moments later, biting down on Tokiya’s neck to hide his harsh breathing.

They stayed still, catching their breath for a minute until the knocking at the door made them jolt.

“Tokiya!” It was Otoya’s voice on the other side. “Are you alright? We’re on in 10!”

“I’m fine,” Tokiya called, his voice barely wavering. “I’ll be right out. Just had an issue with these asinine buttons and zippers.”

Masato slipped out of him and began to clean up.

Otoya laughed. “I know what you mean. Syo had to help me with mine.” Otoya paused. “Hey, have you seen Masato?”

Tokiya smirked, looking at his lover. “Sorry, I haven’t seen him in a bit. Did you check the lounge?”

“Ah, that’s a good idea. I’ll go look. Thanks, Tokiya!”

“No problem,” Tokiya called after his retreating footsteps.

Masato smacked his shoulder with his freshly washed hand. “Buttons and zippers, really?”

Tokiya arched a brow. “I really might need help,” he defended, even as he effortlessly fixed his pants. 

“Sure,” Masato said, unamused.

Tokiya fixed Masato’s collar and pressed their lips together.

“Come, now, Hijirikawa-san. We’ve got a concert to hold.”

Tokiya reached for the door, but Masato dragged him into one more kiss. 

“My place tonight,” he whispered, slipping the key into Tokiya’s jacket. 

Tokiya grinned, left the cramped bathroom, and disappeared into the backstage crowd.


End file.
